Dusty Potter and the Ink Disheartened
by Duckweed
Summary: Harry Potter x Inkheart. What happens when a pair of slightly obnoxious fanfiction writers force various Harry Potter characters to act out a rather badly scripted version of Funke's masterpeice? Cowritten with mynameisbob.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Good evening. We (that is, mynameisbob and Duckweed) would like to say a few words before you begin reading this unbearably pointless crossover. First off, before you start doubting our sanity, we must tell you that we came up with the idea for this while sitting in the very back of an un-air conditioned classroom listening to the ramblings of a mildly incompetent English teacher. Well, we WOULD have been listening, if we weren't busy writing this. Please blame the teacher, not us. On the other hand, doubting our sanity is most likely a relatively good idea.

Also, if you happen to enjoy this particular brand of humor, we recommend taking a look at Duckweed's infamous Gwin story, and/or mynameisbob's Jam Jar Drabbles, in which Inkheart's cast experiences the wonders of the aforementioned condiment. Having finished with self-advertising, we encounter a familiar fanfiction feature—the disclaimer.

Disclaimer: Do not sue us, it would make us sad. Then we would get depressed and kill ourselves by flailing our arms in a dramatic manner and throwing ourselves off of conveniently located bridges.

Chapter 1

"Protego!" shouted Harry, just barely managing to block the curse directed at him. All around him were the sounds of battle. Carnage surrounded them, and Harry kept stumbling as he backed away from the staring red eyes and silted nostrils of Voldemort. Harry shot off a curse at that white face, but he missed his mark. A red line of light just barely missed him as he blocked yet another curse from Voldemort. Harry was getting desperate. He had not been ready for this sudden attack and the order was losing badly.

Voldemort lazily flicked his wand, shouting "Avada Ke--"

The scenery started spinning, picking up speed, until everything was just a multi-colored blur.

Suddenly Harry's vision went black.

It stayed like that for quite a while.

Harry was lying on his back. He could see a high, vaulted ceiling, which seemed to be spinning slowly. Where had the battlefield gone? Where was he now? Had he been killed? Was wherever he was now the place you go to when you die?

Harry rolled over, and finding that he wasn't injured, sat up and looked around. He seemed to be in some sort of theater, a very big one too, although there were chairs missing from the rows of seats, dust everywhere, and the curtains were full of moth holes.

Harry was sitting on the stage. It was a moment before he noticed that he was not alone--Hermione was picking herself up, on the other side of the platform, near a rusty looking grand piano.

"Harry?" she said, "What's going on?"

"I haven't the foggiest," Harry replied, "You don't think this is some trick of Voldemort's, Do you? Or maybe we were killed in battle."

"Wonderful!" Said a voice. Harry spun around to see a girl with long, untidy dark hair emerge from behind the beat up curtain. "Finally, the entire cast is here! Well, not the entire cast, but everyone we happen to need for the first scene is here. At last we can start doing what we're supposed to be doing...but you don't know what that is, do you? We're putting on a play. It's meant to promote inter-story cooperation--"

The girl stopped talking as two people made their way down the aisle towards them. One was a girl carrying a notebook. The other was a man, perhaps in his late thirties. There was something distinctly odd about him--he had long, slightly disheveled red hair, and his face was disfigured by three pale scars, which made him look as if his head had been smashed and glued back together again. However, the strangest thing about him was that he was carrying a penguin. It was one of the ones with bushy orange eyebrows.

"You've got to turn her back," he was saying, as he hurried in the girl's wake, "You said you wanted her to be a dance choreographer--"

"Of course I did," said the carrier of the notebook, "Don't you know that the play has got absolutely no dances in it? You see, I couldn't care less what she looks like, because there's nothing to choreograph. Hey, look, new people!"

"They don't look much like death eaters," Harry whispered to Hermione. She looked like she was about to reply, but the notebook less girl began talking again.

"Let me introduce myself. I'm Queen Duckweed of the Order of the Sparkly Shrubbery, almighty overlord of the Evil Salamanders from Pluto. I'm also your director. Nice to meet you both." She held out her hand, and they both shook it rather nervously. The girl turned to her companion. "This is Bob. She's the other director."

"Excuse me," said Harry, "But what exactly is going on? Where are we?"

"In a random, dilapidated theater, where else?" said Bob. She gave the man with the penguin a surprised look, as if she was noticing him for the first time. "Are you still here, Dustfinger? Don't you have something to do?"

"Who precicely is that?" Duckweed asked, pointing to the penguin, which squawked angrily.

"It's Roxane," Bob answered. She sounded annoyed. "I haven't a clue why you're so upset, Dustfinger, she looks loads better this way."

Dustfinger set the penguin down on the edge of the stage, where it fluffed itself up a bit before looking accusingly at Bob.

"Let's not argue over trivial details," Duckweed commented in an exasperated voice. "Now where were we? Oh yes, I was just explaining to you what's going on--"

"You turned my wife into a penguin, and you call that a trivial detail?"

"Yes we do. Perhaps you'd like to be turned into one too?" Said Bob, opening her notebook and taking out a pen.

"Um, not particularly."

"Then go away and stop bothering us."

Dustfinger gave them a defeated look before turning and disappearing into the shadows that veiled the other end of the theater.

"What are you looking at?" Bob said to Roxane the penguin. The bird shot her a hate filled glance before waddling off in the opposite direction.

Harry and Hermione watched the exchange with rather confused expressions on their faces. Duckweed seemed to notice.

"The basic idea is that people from your story, the Harry Potter books, have to act in a dramatization of this other story, called Inkheart. The people from that story are all on the crew. Of course, if any of you lot don't do exactly what we tell you to do, Bob turns you into a penguin as demonstrated just now."

"Except that Roxane didn't do anything bad. I was just kind of bored," Bob added.

"They're mad!" Hermione hissed.

"We are not mad!" Said Duckweed indignantly.

"We're just more or less insane," said Bob.

"Exactly," Duckweed agreed. Hermione rolled her eyes, but the infamous queen of the Sparkly Shrubbery didn't seem to notice. She went on. "Bob's got some scripts in her pockets, she'll give them to you. You can look at them for a bit before we run through the first scene. You don't have to commit it to memory, you can adlib the whole thing for all I care."

Bob handed them both greenish colored booklets before walking off in the direction that the penguin had gone.

Duckweed turned to leave, but stopped herself before saying, "Harry, you'll be playing the part of Dustfinger. Hermione, you can be Meggie. I'll be back in about five minutes with the rest of the crew." With that, the girl hopped off the stage and exited through a door to the left.

"So," said Hermione, "I'm Meggie and you're Dustfinger."

"Surely you don't intend to go along with this rubbish, do you?"

"I'd rather not get turned into a penguin, and I doubt they'll keep us here forever." She sighed, and flipped through the script.

"Wasn't that guy whose wife got turned into a penguin called Dustfinger?"

"Oh, I don't know. Leave me alone Harry, I'm trying to memorize this."

Harry was about to open his own script when he heard a slight scratching sound. He looked up to see yet another penguin appear from behind one of the seats. It wasn't Roxane--this one didn't have orange feathers above it's eyes, and it was slightly more scraggily.

Harry watched with interest as it looked around fervently. He got the distinct impression that the penguin was not doing what it was supposed to be doing, whatever that could be. Harry heard a door open somewhere, and the sound of voices. The auditorium was suddenly filled with people--they seemed to come out of hidden doorways all around the room. He looked for the sneaky penguin, but it was gone.

"You two should be back stage," said a girl he didn't recognize, "Come with me."

Hermione picked up her script and followed the girl as she pushed aside the curtain. Harry walked after them.

Behind the curtain was what looked like a half built set, although it was hard to tell exactly what sort of place it was supposed to be. Several people were pushing different objects around, and several other people were yelling at each other. Harry could see Bob talking to a woman with some sort of birthmark on her cheek.

"So which one of us are you supposed to be?" asked the girl. She was a little younger than him, with blond hair and blue eyes.

"I'm Harry Potter. I'm supposed to be someone called Dustfinger."

The girl looked at him for a moment, and then began to giggle hysterically. Harry had never been fond of girls who giggled too much. "What's so funny?"

"It's only that you're about twenty-five years younger than he is," she replied, still giggling. "Although I heard that Basta's going to be played by some lady, so it could be worse. I'm Meggie, by the way. Nice to meet you."

"Err, nice to meet you too."

"Harry! I knew you'd end up here!" said a familiar voice.

"Professor Lupin?" Harry looked up, confused, as his former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher walked up to him. "What are you supposed to be? I'm someone called Dustfinger."

"I'm someone called Mortimer. Look out, here comes that Duckweed character."

The girl with the hair-that-had-a-life-of-it's-own was indeed making a beeline for Harry. There was so much going on that he scarcely noticed when Lupin wandered off in the opposite direction.

"Harry!" called Duckweed, "There you are! I forgot to ask you something. It's legal stuff, I hope you don't mind. Do you feel comfortable getting hung from the ceiling thirty feet in the air, and getting your leg sliced open with a sword?"

"What?" said Harry.

"Oh, wonderful, that's just perfect," Duckweed continued, "And how do you feel about getting your heart ripped out by the white women? They won't be real white women, of course, we plan on using dementors. Bob's going to bleach them."

"Err…"

"Thanks for being such a good sport, Harry! I'm sure you'll do just fine. Here's Hedwig and a backpack."

"But what—" Harry started, but Duckweed had already disappeared.

"You should go stand over there," said Meggie. "I have to pull the curtain open because the ropes are all messed up." She darted away.

Harry moved over to the side of the stage. There was a loud scraping sound as a tall man in a blue-ish cloak pushed a heavy looking bench onto the stage. Hermione walked over and sat on it. As the man walked back, past Harry, he hissed "You're supposed to put the owl IN the backpack."

Harry decided to take his word for it. He tried desperately to get the bird into the satchel as Duckweed's voice sounded from the other side of the curtain.

"Alright, houselights dim!"

"I don't think Farid can hear you from up in that place where they control the lights from," said Bob.

"Somebody will have to go up and tell him then."

"I'll do it," came Meggie's voice.

"Okay, but hurry up."

Harry heard the sound of running feet, and then silence. Hedwig bit his finger. He wasn't entirely sure that the backpack was big enough for her to fit in, even if she did stop struggling.

After what felt like a half an hour, Harry heard the sound of running again.

"Farid says he can't figure out how to turn the houselights off, because there are to many little knobs and buttons," panted Meggie.

"Go back and tell him to fiddle around with it all until he gets it right," Duckweed answered impatiently. Harry heard Meggie run off again. Hedwig screeched and flapped her wings. Harry held her down, stroking her feathers to calm her.

After about fifteen minutes, the stage brightened up. It was filled with a dull, red-tinged light, which faded to purple, and then blue. After a second, it started to flash between complete darkness and blinding brightness. The lighting continued to change until the light disappeared completely and the stage was plunged into pitch darkness.

"Finally," said Duckweed. "Open the curtains now."

Harry heard a thump, followed by a string of curses.

"Rats," said Duckweed. "Now no one can see what they're doing. Farid! Make the stage lights dim! Don't turn them off!"

"He can't hear you, remember? We have to wait for Meggie to get back. Then we can send her back up to tell him," said Bob.

"And wait all that time? Hey you, Brianna! Go up and tell Farid to turn the stage lights on."

"I can't!" came a muffled reply. "I'm all tangled up in the lighting cables!"

"Untangle yourself then!"

Someone on the other side of the stage struck a match, and hushed voices could be heard.

"That cable goes under here, and over there…"

"There's one wrapped around your ankle…"

"She'll have to take her shoe off…"

"Stop it! You're strangling me!"

"Sorry, sorry… Pull that one in the other direction…"

Hedwig was beginning to get used to the idea of being stuck in a backpack. She was no longer struggling. Harry managed to get her to sit in the satchel, but it wasn't big enough to cover her head.

Harry once again heard the sound of running footsteps, followed by a thump and a yelp of pain.

"Stupid seat!" said Meggie's voice. "But now it's dark. Are you happy?"

"Not completely. We just need you to—"

"It's okay," said Brianna, "I'll do it. Thanks for the help, Cloud-Dancer."

"No problem, kid," said a man's voice, "Damn it, the candle just died."

There was yet another thud, and then the sound footsteps fading away into the distance. A few moments later, Harry once again heard the voice of Meggie.

"I can't find the stairs. How do I get onto the stage?"

"Don't. Wait until the lights come back on."

Time passed, as Harry sat in the dark. Finally, a single naked light bulb hanging from the vaulted ceiling ignited.

"That's much better," said Duckweed, "Alright, then, curtains!"

Meggie appeared onstage and took hold of the dusty red curtain on the left and pulled it aside.

"Excuse me," said Bob, "But both curtains are supposed to open simultaneously."

"Brianna's the one who opens the other curtain, and she hasn't gotten back yet."

"Just go and open the other one."

As the fair-haired girl pushed aside the moth eaten piece of cloth, Harry realized that Hermione had been waiting on her wooden bench for all this time.

"Action!" cried Duckweed. She was sitting in the first row of seats, next to Bob.

Hermione straightened up and said "I always—"

"Hold it!" yelled Bob, "This can't be right. Meggie's supposed to be sitting on her bed."

"She is," said Duckweed.

"That's not a bed, it's a bench."

"I know. We couldn't find a bed light enough to get on the stage quickly, so we're using a bench."

"But—"

"Shut up and stop complaining."

Bob looked insulted, but she fell silent. Hermione started over.

"I always put the book I'm reading under my pillow at night. Sometimes I can hear it whispering to me in my—"

"Hello, what did I miss?" Brianna said, pushing her way through a heavy looking door at the back of the auditorium.

"Absolutely nothing," said Duckweed.

"Start again Hermione," said Bob.

"I always put the book I'm reading under my pillow at night. Sometimes I can hear it whispering to me in my dreams."

Hermione stood up and looked around. "You know, it would help if there was a window I could look out of."

"Was that in the script?" asked Bob.

"Just pantomime looking out of a window," Duckweed said, ignoring Bob.

Hermione gazed purposefully into space. She suddenly took on a surprised look, and ran over to Lupin, who had slipped onto the stage and was standing behind her.

"Professor—I mean, um, what's your name again?"

"Mo."

"Alright then, Mo! There's someone out in the yard!"

"Gee, I wonder who it is."

"I don't know. Let's go see."

They pretended to walk downstairs.

"This is like, so cheesy," said Bob. "Can't we cut that scene?"

"If you cut all the cheesy scenes, there won't be any left," said Duckweed.

"Why does this play have to be so lame? I mean, the book wasn't lame."

"Because I wrote the script. If you don't like cheesy plays, you can write another one yourself."

"It's a bit late for that."

Harry jumped as the man in the blue cape tapped him on the shoulder. "You should probably go on about now. And put the backpack on."

Harry carefully slung the backpack over his shoulder and walked out into the small circle of light provided by the lone light bulb.

"Um, hello Dustfinger," said Lupin.

"Hi, err, Mortimer."

"Silvertongue."

"You said your name was Mortimer!"

"You're supposed to call me Silvertongue."

"Whatever you say, Silvertongue." Harry hesitated, not knowing what to do next.

"Hang on a second!" shouted Bob, "That kid can't be Dustfinger! He's only sixteen and his hair's the wrong color."

"They both have scars on their faces. It's a perfect match."

"But Dustfinger isn't supposed to be the same age as Meggie! His daughter is older than her!"

"Oh come on. You can't expect me to think of everything. Both of them are equally angsty, and both of them have large dents in their heads. Oh yes, and neither of them have parents! You can't argue with that, can you?"

"Yes I can."

"Oh, be quiet." Duckweed turned back to the stage. " Do something, will you? This is getting boring."

"Hello Dustfinger," said Hermione.

"Hello Herm—I mean Meggie."

"Go away, Meggie," said Lupin.

"I don't feel like it."

"I don't care. Go away."

"Go away to where?"

"I don't know. Just out into the hallway, or something."

"We don't have a hallway."

"Pretend that we do."

Hermione walked over to the other side of the stage. Lupin turned to Harry.

"Why are you here?"

"I'm not sure," said Harry. "I was in the middle of a battle, and then I sort of woke up here."

"No, I mean in the play. Are you going to warn me about something?"

"I don't know. I didn't exactly read the script."

"Just so you know, you're here to warn me about this evil guy called Capricorn, except not really because you're working for him, but I don't know that yet."

"Um, okay. So I'm warning you that Capricorn is working for me but not really because he doesn't know that yet?"

"Close enough."

Suddenly, a loud and angry sounding squawk was heard, and Roxane the penguin waddled onstage. She was closely followed by the dodgy-looking penguin Harry had seen earlier. The two birds scrabbled around—The scraggly one seemed to be chasing the one with the orange eyebrows.

Before Harry had a chance to take in what was happening, the real Dustfinger had appeared on stage, accompanied by the real Meggie. Both of them were carrying brooms.

"Leave her alone, you bully!" Meggie yelled at the penguin that wasn't Roxane. She attempted to smack the beat up looking bird with her broom. Roxane hid behind Dustfinger's boot.

"What are you trying to do to that innocent penguin?" said Bob.

"He's not innocent, he's Basta," said Meggie.

"At least we think he is," said Dustfinger. "His tail feathers are all burnt off."

"Basta's been turned into a penguin?" asked a surprised sounding voice from somewhere backstage.

"Basta and the rest of the world," said someone else.

"Will someone get Basta off the stage so that we can continue?" asked Duckweed.

After Meggie and Dustfinger had chased the bedraggled bird into the dressing rooms with the help of their brooms, Harry and his former teacher continued their conversation.

"So Capricorn is looking for me?" said Lupin, "Oh no, I wonder what I should do. I be you want me to bring him the Book."

"What book?"

"You know. THE Book."

Harry began to pick up the hint. "Erm, I want you to bring Capricorn the book."

"This is getting a bit dull," said Duckweed. "Can't we just skip to the part where Dustfinger leaves?"

"Go away, Harry," said Bob.

"Goodbye, Dustfinger."

"Goodbye Professor Silvertongue."

Harry walked out of the light, as Hedwig fidgeted in her backpack. Meggie, Dustfinger, and the man in the blue coat were sitting in folding chairs next to the curtain—all three of them were shaking with stifled laughter. Harry watched as Hermione walked back over to Professor Lupin.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Nothing much. Go to bed," Lupin replied.

"Alright," said Hermione.

"That couldn't have been much worse," said Duckweed. "I said you could adlib stuff, but I expect you all to be a bit more enthusiastic."

"I'm sure they'll all do their best in the future," said Bob, "Would someone show the Harry Potter characters where the dormitories are?"

"I'll do it. Come on, you lot," said the man in the blue coat. He walked over to the door Harry had assumed led to the dressing rooms.

"Oh, I haven't introduced myself yet. I'm Mo. That is, Mortimer, Silvertongue, Bluejay, whatever. I've got so many pseudonyms, I'm beginning to loose track. Here we are, then."

The man led Harry, Hermione, and Lupin into a very, very long, narrow hallway, lined on both sides with doors.

"We don't get to sleep in actual beds," said Mo, "We just get sort of closet sized vault things with coffins in them. There are nametags on them, so you can find yours. They're alphabetized. Well, good luck, and goodnight. I have to finish building a car by tomorrow morning." With that, he disappeared back the way they had come.

The hallway, Harry noticed for the second time, really was incredibly long, and incredibly narrow. He couldn't see the end of it, and there was only room to walk down it single-file.

Quite awhile later, Harry and Hermione reached the Hs, but something was not going according to plan. There was a door labeled "Hermione", as well as an alcove containing a large, sparkly, jewel encrusted birdcage marked "Hedwig", but there was no "Harry".

"Maybe they used your last name," said Hermione, reading his thoughts.

"Yeah," he said, starting down the hall again.

What felt like over an hour later, Harry had reached the place where the P section would be, but all he found was another alcove, containing a pair of massive filing cabinets labeled "Pomegranates" and "Pomeranians".

Beginning to get worried, he decided that his name must have been put in the wrong spot, and hiked all the way back to the entrance to the hallway, determined to look at each door in turn. Luckily, just after "Basta" he found "Boy Who Lived".

"Those girls sure like to make life difficult," he thought, opening his door.

Inside, he found a small, box-like room, containing a wooden, coffin-shaped box stuffed with blankets and pillows, as well a wooden chest labeled "Costume an' props fo' Dusty—Give two HP." Inside, he found a beat up looking pair of jeans, a beat up looking t-shirt, a beat up looking black and red cape, a wine bottle that contained lighter fluid, a bundle of unlit torches, and an assortment of switchblades.

Harry put the objects back in the box and lay down in his coffin. He was careful not to let the lid close on him.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Woohoo! I finally finished the second chapter after a whole year! This is Bob, by the way. Happy Holidays everyone! I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much as I enjoyed finishing it! Read on!

**Disclaimer: **I own the Harry Potter and Inkheart paraphernalia (I've always wanted to use that word) just as much as I have fifty dollars in my pocket. (That is to say, I don't.)

A loud slamming noise jolted Harry into consciousness. He sat up, forgetting where he was for a moment and almost broke his skull against the coffin lid. Of course, the lid didn't budge, so Harry shoved it off with some difficulty. It clattered on the stone floor. Harry deduced that the slamming noise was coming from the door, and went over to open it.

The moment the door opened, a large _something_ came flying out of nowhere and hit Harry full in the face. He fell backward and hit his head on the hard stone floor.

"What the hell!?" yelled Harry, although it sounded more like, "Wud duh head!?" because his nose was broken.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry," a female voice said conversationally. "I'll call up Madame Pomfrey." Harry heard the rustle of paper and realized it was Bob who had spoken.

"No, no, ib's adrib. I'll jus have Hermimome fid id."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeb."

"What?" asked Bob. "I didn't quite catch that."

"I said, yeb!"

I still didn't quite catch that."

"Yeb! Oh nebermind."

"Whatever," she turned to leave. "Oh and that pomegranate is for your breakfast, okay?"

"Whab?" asked Harry, but she was already gone. He sat up and looked around, wincing in pain from his poor head, and spotted a slightly discolored pomegranate lying next to him. He shrugged.

"Well I've eaten worse things."

Harry managed to find his way onto the stage after having his nose repaired by Hermione. Immediately, a flurry of activity converged on him, the extent of it almost making him turn tail and run back out the door. But before he could do so, _something_ leapt on him, causing him to crash into the lines for the lighting, and then the lights began to fall. Harry, realizing that what had landed on him was Duckweed, lay winded on the ground. He hardly noticed the screams until Duckweed stepped on him, trying to reach the rope so she could stop the lights.

"Hey, Bob!" Duckweed called, after grabbing the rope and stopping the fatal descent. "Did you get Elinor's actor here?"

"Almost. I got held up."

"By what?"

"Dustfinger."

"Oh, him again. Tell him that if he bothers you again, I give you my permission to turn him into a penguin."

"And since when did I need your permission?"

"True, true. Anyway, get T- whatsername over here now."

"I already am!"

There was a loud screech that made Harry shudder as he realized who it was from. Professor Trelawney was here!

Harry shrank back into the shadows to avoid detection. He didn't want to have to be called an "Object" again.

"Alright, everyone in scene two, on stage now!"

Harry, seeming to have misplaced his script, stayed where he was, as Hermione and Professor Lupin appeared onstage.

"Hey! We need the moving boxes, stage crew!" screamed Bob's voice.

"Where do you want them?!"

"Upstage left!"

Hermione and Lupin began moving the boxes from the corner of the stage to behind the four chairs set up in a square in the center of the stage. Two chairs were facing sideways and were attached like a bed.

When they were done, Lupin sat in the chair in the front and Hermione sat in the chair behind him. Lupin pretended to drive while a long chunk of Styrofoam was dragged onto the stage.

"Harry! You were supposed to have walked out with the wall and popped out at Mo and Meggie!"

"Oh! Sorry." Harry fast-walked out onto the stage and stood in front of the chairs. Lupin and Hermione got out of the "car."

"Dustfinger, what are you doing here?" said Lupin.

There was a short pause.

"Harry, it's your line!" hissed Hermione.

"Huh? Oh, I don't know what I'm supposed to say."

"Skip over the greetings and go straight to Dustfinger's monologue," Duckweed called.

"I have a monologue? Oh shit!" panicked Harry.

"You're supposed to tell me about Capricorn and how evil he is," Hermione told him unhelpfully.

Who's Capricorn?"

"Uh, just talk about V-Voldemort, but call him Capricorn."

"Doesn't that mean goat?"

"Yes, it does. Now hurry up!"

"Okay, well Vold- I mean, Goat is my archnemisis-"

"Capricorn!" hissed Hermione.

"Oh right. Um he's tried to kill me five or six times, I'm not really sure, I lost count. No one wants to say his name. They call him You-Know-Who. He's got red snake eyes, a pet snake, and his followers are called Death Eaters. His Dark Mark is a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth, and –"

"Okay, that's fine, move on to the driving scene," called Duckweed.

Lupin sat back down in the front chair, Hermione sat in the one behind him, and Harry sat on the combined chairs after a hint from Hermione.

"Harry, pretend to be sleeping," called Bob.

Harry delicately lay down on the double chair. It wasn't long enough so his legs hung off the other end. Hermione's chair looked mildly rickety, and Lupin looked uncomfortable in a chair that looked fit for a kindergartener.

They waited.

And they waited some more.

Harry started getting a cramp in his back and Lupin was slowly slipping down in his chair. Hermione was the only one who was still sitting up straight.

Lupin began to snore. Harry's cramp was so painful it brought tears to his eyes when he moved. Hermione sat back in her chair. With a loud crash the chair collapsed, waking up Lupin, leaving Hermione in a pile of broken chair legs and other rubble, and causing Harry to start upright and fall off his chairs, writhing with pain.

"Alright, we'll need a new chair. In the meantime, skip to where Dustfinger, Meggie and Mo meet Elinor. Where is Sybil?" called Duckweed.

"Coming!" came the slightly harassed voice of Professor Trelawney. She came floating onto the stage.

At first, Harry couldn't even tell that it was her because she had none of her usual gauzy shawls and was missing her "insect glasses". Due to the latter fact, she immediately crashed into the foam wall causing it and her to fall to the ground.

"Why was the wall still there?" Duckweed called. "You should have switched it with the door by now!"

"Sorry."

"Sybil, open the door and say your lines."

"What door?" breezed Professor Trelawney.

"The one in front of your face!" screamed Duckweed.

"Oh, there's a door there?" Professor Trelawney walked forward and slammed into the door, which thankfully opened.

"Hello… Oh such a tragic aura! I must see your palm, read your tealeaves…I know who you are! Harry Potter! I'm surprised you're not dead yet!"

She walked forward… and fell off the stage. A terrible earsplitting screech nearly broke the eardrums of everyone in the vicinity. Bob took out her notebook and wrote something down. A second later, Madame Pomfrey appeared out of a small whirling vortex.

Duckweed appeared on the stage, dismissed everyone, and disappeared off into some dark corner. Harry followed Hermione as she walked backstage. She turned into a small dark passage.

"Where are you going?" asked Harry.

"I think this leads to the back of the theater. I thought that it would be better to get to know this place," Hermione replied.

They wandered down the passageway in pitch-black darkness. Both Harry and Hermione had left their wands in their rooms, more like cupboards, so they couldn't light their way. Suddenly, Harry slammed into something soft, which let out a loud squeak.

"Who's there?" asked a female voice. It wasn't Hermione.

"Harry. Who are you?"

"Meggie. Where are you?"

"Ouch! That was my foot!" came Hermione's voice.

"Who are you?" asked Meggie.

"Hermione. Do you know where this leads?"

"Yeah. It leads to the lighting tower. I was just going to go get Farid down from it."

"Oh. I guess we'll go with you."

They continued to walk, holding onto the walls to keep going in the right direction, stubbing their toes along the way.

Finally a faint light appeared and they could see each other as dark blobs against a slightly brighter background. After five more minutes, the light grew brighter and they could see a twisting metal staircase just ahead. They hastened forward and began the loud, clanging climb. Meggie opened the door ahead and bounded into the small room. A boy about Harry's age was fiddling with the multitude of buttons and switches in front of him. When Meggie came into the room, he looked up.

"Meggie! Have you come to rescue me?"

"Yup!" she replied. "Oh don't let that door close!" she called to Harry and Hermione, who had just walked into the room. Harry's fast Quidditch reflexes helped him to grab the fast closing door.

"Why can't we let the door close?" asked Hermione.

"Well, it locks from the outside automatically, so you can only open it from the outside. That's why Farid was stuck here."

"Oh, glad I caught it then," remarked Harry.

"So, Farid, do you want to go exploring with me, and these two?" Meggie offered.

"Sure! I'd love to," Farid replied.

They made their way back down the stairs, and started back through the dark passage.

"Hold on," Farid called. "There's got to be a light for this place. I can see a light bulb on the ceiling. I'll be right back. I'm going to try to find the switch in the lighting tower."

"Wait, I'll come with you to hold the door," Meggie said.

They disappeared down the corridor. Soon Harry and Hermione could hear their feet on the metal steps. With unspoken consent, they followed the two friends.

Harry and Hermione approached the bottom of the stairs. Suddenly, all of the lights went out. Harry could hear faint cries of complaint coming from the stage where the set was being built. A few seconds passed and then disco lights began to flash on the distant stage. Distant screams could be heard in response to the blinding light. After a quick succession of Christmas colors, blinding spotlights, and a purple rose, the regular lights finally came back on. After a few seconds, a blaring foghorn rang through the theater. Harry had to wonder at what Farid was doing because he had thought for sure that he was in the lighting tower, not the sound booth.

Finally, after what felt like an hour of blinding light and pitch darkness, with loud sounds mixed in, a few naked light bulbs turned on over the hallway.

"Stop! We've got light!" Harry called up to Meggie.

Meggie said something to Farid and they both came back down the stairs.

"Let's go!" Meggie called enthusiastically.

The four teenagers disappeared into the corridor. Well, they didn't really disappear, seeing as the hallway was arrow straight, but you know what I mean, right? Anyway…

Harry Hermione, Meggie, and Farid were in the middle of the passage when all of the light bulbs blew out at once. They were instantly plunged into pitch darkness, which they found quite odd because the hallway was arrow straight and not super long, so they should at least be able to see the lights from the stage.

"Something's fishy."

"Definitely."

"We should be able to see the backstage lights from here."

"But we can't."

"Yes."

"I suppose we had better keep going."

"I guess so."

"Gwaaah!"

"Harry? Harry, was that you? Harry?"

"Harry, where – yeek!"

"Meggie? Are you all right? Meg – whoa!"

"Farid? Harry? Meggie? Where are – oh!"

Harry felt three people fall on top of him, one after another. Someone was grinding his head into the floor, someone else's hair was in his mouth, and a really sharp elbow was jabbing into his chest. The other three weren't much better off.

After determining that it was Meggie's hair in his mouth, Hermione's hand on his head, and Farid's elbow in his stomach, Harry twisted just enough so that Farid's elbow slipped off his chest and slammed on the floor.

"Ouch! What did you do that for?"

Harry, engrossed in the process of getting Meggie's hair out of his mouth, didn't answer. Hermione was finally able to roll off the pile and sit up, allowing Meggie to shift enough so that her hair wasn't in Harry's face anymore. Farid managed to untangle himself and get to his feet. He then helped Meggie up, finally allowing Harry to stand, after gulping the precious air that had been a distant dream just moments before.

"What just happened?" Meggie asked.

"I think we fell into some sort of secret passageway. Although I don't see the door we came through," replied Hermione.

"We came from that direction. Look! There's a slight crack. This must be where the door is. Though I don't think we can open it," said Harry.

"Well, there's only one way to go," Farid announced, pointing down the narrow passage. "We did want to go exploring, right?"

"Yeah. At least the light is on."

The four teenagers turned the corner and really did disappear into the passage this time.

The pink and blue tiled floor was a bit odd, but other than that, the hallway was pretty normal looking. The only problem was that it didn't seem to have an end, and was way too twisty for a normal hallway. The four turned yet another corner… and immediately the floor was wood and the wallpaper was tie-dye. Completely normal, right? There were a bunch of doors all over the place, with one door at the very end that looked like it might lead into another hallway. They decided that they would try some of the doors before moving on.

Meggie was first one to open a door. Behind it was a room whose walls, ceiling, and floor were made up of doors.

"Wow, this is really cool!"

"Yeah! Although I wouldn't walk on the doors –"

"Waugh! Help!"

"Geez, I said not to walk on the doors! Here, grab my hand."

"Thanks."

Hermione pulled Meggie back onto the doorframe. Farid was halfway over to them, but stopped moving when Meggie was safe. Harry, who was the closest to the hallway, went back and tried another door. It was locked.

"It's locked?" asked Hermione, coming out of the room of doors.

"Yeah," replied Harry

"Aww man! Now I'm really curious," said Farid.

Harry turned to the next door. The second he opened it, he was sucked into the room beyond. His lightning fast Quidditch reflexes came to the rescue again, and Harry was able to grab hold of the doorframe before he was totally sucked away. However, the pull was too strong for him to pull himself out again, and Farid, Hermione, and Meggie needed to help. Harry managed to catch the door with his foot and Meggie grabbed the doorknob and slammed it shut once Harry was out of the way.

"Okay, never open the second door on the left," Hermione panted. No one else had enough breath to reply.

Once Harry had gotten over the shock, he sat up from his sprawled position on the floor, straightened out his clothes, and stood up.

"Well, that was an experience. I'm not sure I want to try any more doors, to tell you the truth."

"Aww, come on Harry! Don't spoil the fun," Farid joked.

"I never said that you couldn't open any doors. Meggie and I already have. You and Hermione need to try some."

"Alright. Come on Hermy!"

"Hermy!? Gosh, you sound like Grawp."

"Who's that?"

"Never mind. I'll try this door."

"Then I'll try this one."

Farid and Hermione opened their doors simultaneously. Farid's opened into what looked like and empty warehouse.

"How boring," said Farid.

Hermione's door opened onto the stage. However, if you think that they could go back that way, then you are sorely mistaken. Her door opened fifty feet above the stage. They could hear hammering and the sound of power tools, but Hermione closed the door before much else could be observed. She immediately sat down with her head between her legs.

"You're afraid of heights, aren't you?" questioned Harry. Hermione nodded.

"Well, I guess we should get going. "I'm a little tired."

"Alright, let's go back to our coffins!"

The four teenagers walked down the hallway to the door on the far end. Harry opened it and they all went inside.

What lay beyond the door was not another hallway, but a plain circular room. In the center was a stone pedestal. On top of the pedestal was a rather wilted flower. Sitting next to the pot was a small folded piece of paper, like a dinner card. On it was the word _"yo."_

Harry looked at the flowerpot, and then turned back to his friends. They stared back. When Harry looked back at the flowerpot, the card next to it seemed to have grown longer. It now said, _"how are you."_

"Okay, that's just weird," said Meggie.

"There might be a person behind the pedestal, switching the cards," suggested Harry.

"Or it could be a wizard like me and Harry," replied Hermione.

"Okay! Show yourself! Who did that?" Farid called out.

They looked back at the card. It said, "I did."

"What in hell?!" yelled Harry.

"_hell is very hot." _ The card, flowerpot, or whatever it was, obviously wanted to join the conversation.

"Um, sure," said Farid.

"You're actually going to start a conversation with that thing?" Meggie asked.

"Why not?" Farid asked. "It looks kind of lonely."

"That's true. I guess we could keep the thing company."

"_thank you."_

"You're welcome."

"Well I think it's silly to talk to a flower pot. It's an inanimate object for one thing," stated Hermione.

"_my name is cgflower. i'm sorry you don't like me. i am lonely though."_

"Well, I'll keep you company for a while," said Meggie's maternal side.

"I just want to know how that works! How does it respond to our conversation? How do the words change?" Harry exclaimed. "I know! Everyone, let's stare at the card as we talk and see if it will change."

They all agreed. When they turned back to the card, it told them not to stare because it was embarrassing. However, they ignored the plea and continued to observe the card. Not having anything to say the room was silent. The intensity of the group's desire to see how the card worked kept each person's eyes open for a full two minutes. Finally though, the need to blink overpowered their desire and they all blinked at once. When they opened their eyes, the card was different.

"_am i really that beautiful. my inner begonia is flattered."_

Harry, Hermione, Meggie, and Farid collectively sighed.

"Terrible grammar," stated Hermione.

"Who, me?" Harry asked.

"No! The flower pot or whatever it is."

"Oh."

"_i'm sorry."_

"You don't have to apologize! Hermione is just being mean," Meggie told the flowerpot. Farid, ignoring this exchange, had walked up to the flowerpot.

"Hey, look at this!" he called.

"What?" Harry asked as he walked over. Hermione and Meggie were too busy arguing to pay attention.

"There's a faint 'CG' on the pot. Looks like it was done with a crayon. It's nearly rubbed off."

"That must be where it's name came from."

"Oh yeah, cgflower, right?"

"Yup."

"I think we spent too much time here. Let's go back," Hermione said in an annoyed voice. She had obviously lost the argument, that fact strengthened by the satisfied smirk on Meggie's face.

"Alright."

The four teenagers turned and opened the door. Harry was the last one out. Before he left, he glanced back towards the pot.

"_bye. come back soon,"_ said the card.

Harry closed the door behind him and joined the other three in the hallway. They stared at the doors with a question in their eyes.

"Which way is out?"

**A/N:** I can't believe that this thing was almost eleven pages on my computer! It's the longest chapter I've ever written! Anyway, review please! (Dustfinger will play with the flames.)


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